No Bounds
by always-a-time
Summary: A series of character-centric drabbles featuring all of our favourite LesMis characters. 'If the bottle is his mistress, than he's had more mistresses than he can count. The bottle is the lady who sings to him night and day, and Grantaire is only too happy to answer her call.'


_"There are three things in life that know no bounds: greed, stupidity, and love."_

_— always-a-time_

* * *

I. Grantaire

* * *

_greed_

If the bottle is his mistress, than he's had more mistresses than he can count. He's been drunk more times than he can count. Well, perhaps he could count, if he wasn't always too drunk to count. The bottle is the lady who sings to him night and day, and Grantaire is only too happy to answer her call. Alcohol is his liquid luck, the only thing that makes him brave enough to even think of holding his own next to Les Amis.

Most of the time, he's sober enough to hold a conversation.

Still, there are times where he isn't, and those are the nights were he's shares his opinions and thoughts on everything without thinking too much of it. He likes to entertain them all, it may be the only thing he's good for. He gives them a good laugh - because he's Grantaire and that's what Grantaire does - which frustrates Enjolras to no end. He thrives on the attention it gets him - those searing, almost-mad looks from their marble leader. Those ice blue eyes send chills down his spine, and even though he knows that he'll gladly drink himself into a stupor to get a glimpse of those eyes, Grantaire can't help but feel greedy.

If anything, he drinks because it's the only way he can look Enjolras in the eye without admitting why he's _really_ getting himself drunk.

* * *

_stupidity_

He knows he shouldn't be sitting in the corner of the room while the rest of Les Amis are plotting revolution and rebellion and whatever else Enjolras is spinning these days. Grantaire is perfectly sober for once, but he finds himself unable to say a single word. Really, who wants to hear what he has to say when Enjolras is speaking? When Enjolras speaks everyone listens. When a sober Grantaire speaks, who would care? They comment on how he's not drunk, sure, but no one wants to hear what he has to say about revolution. He's the pessimistic one, the one who shoots down ideas, not suggests them.

His courage lies in the bottle, and that's where it'll stay for the rest of the night, apparently.

Enjolras finishes what he's talking about and walks over to Grantaire, looking a bit amused, most likely because Grantaire's not holding a wine bottle for once. The rest of their friends are chattering amiably with each other, which makes him wonder why Enjolras is coming over to talk to him when he could be talking with them.

"I think we're just about done here. Do you want to head out?"

This simple request sends his mind into confusion as it floods itself with questions. What does he mean by it? Does he know? Why is he talking to me? He can't want to really want to talk with me, he's just being nice—

"No, I think I'll stay for a while."

_And maybe have a few drinks_, is the part he doesn't say out loud.

If this brush-off hurts him, Enjolras doesn't show it. He simply shrugs, "Alright, see you later, Grantaire," and leaves.

Grantaire spends the rest of the evening drinking himself into a stupor, but it's certainly not the stupidest thing he's done all evening. After all, he just refused Enjolras' company, how much worse can the night get?

* * *

_love_

He stands, wobbling on his feet as the world dances circles around him. Sunlight filters through the shattered windows and bullet-battered doors of the Musain as he tries to adjust to the real world. Grantaire doesn't remember anything at first, doesn't remember anything other than where he is - hungover in the cafe - until he hears the shout of angry voices; the song of angry men.

Enjolras.

Grantaire stumbles up the steps two at a time - it's a miracle he doesn't fall and snap his neck - and spots Enjolras standing before the National Guard.

"_Vive la revolution! Vive la république! Vive la résistance_!" His cries are piercing; they are loud enough to make his already pounding head throb. Perhaps he is not worthy to fight next to Enjoras, to earn his respect or his friendship, but he wishes to at least die with the man he idolizes; the man he loves.

Grantaire turns to face his golden Apollo for the last time, to take in the sight of those beautiful blue eyes. The blond man smiles at him - a real, genuine smile. The fact that Grantaire - pessimistic, drunk, careless Grantaire - has chosen to die for the rebellion has redeemed him somewhat in his leader's eyes. This thought gives him the courage to stand tall and proud next to Enjolras.

_Vive l'amour_, he thinks silently, as the Guard raise their weapons.

When the bullets hit he feels nothing, only the steady beating of happiness in his heart as he and Enjolras grasp hands for the last time.

* * *

**AN: I know, I know. Terrible idea to start a new story while I still have two other WIPs as well as a one-shot WIP. But the plot bunnies were attacking me, what could I do? Therefore, this won't be a priority, but I'll probably be updating whenever the muse strikes. **

**If you want to request character/pairings, I'll gladly write them for you as long as they don't contradict with anything I already have in mind/have written. ****Essentially, all of them shall be character-centric drabbles with one part for each word, if that makes any sense.**

**I'd like to request that if you reuse the quote at the top of this story that you link it back to me and my Author page, as it is my brainchild.**

**Read and review if you liked it!**


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